Page 71 of Forbidden Dance
Blitz gets in. He’s wearing jeans and a deep green sweater that makes his hair seem black as night. I can’t do anything more than take him in.
“I knew you’d be walking this way after the dance class,” he says. “I could only hope you hadn’t gotten so stuck that your parents didn’t allow you to go anymore. Did they take your phone? I’ve been writing you and writing you.”
I don’t know what to say. That I got the messages and didn’t respond? That it was pointless?
A woman and her dog pass by, and I startle, petrified it will be my mother trying to bring me a coat. It could happen. “Let’s get away from here,” I say. I’ve gotten good at lying again. I’ll figure a way out of it if she goes to Dreamcatcher and I’m not there.
He starts the car with a low rumble of the engine. In seconds, we’re far enough away that I don’t have to worry about being seen. “Pull over here,” I say, pointing to the parking lot of a bank. It’s hidden by a tall hedge.
Blitz parks the car in the corner and reaches over to unbuckle my belt. He takes me in his arms again, holding me tightly, as if he can’t believe I’m really there.
I understand the feeling. “You came back,” I say.
“Of course I did,” he says. “I didn’t even get to say good-bye.”
My stomach falls. “Are you now?”
He pulls away a little so he can look into my eyes. His are deep, dark brown, and full of concern. “Of course not. I flew back to find you again. I’ve been so worried. That you got caught. That your parents flipped out.”
I shake my head. “They don’t know about you still.”
“Do you still have your phone?”
I nod slowly. “I just couldn’t answer. I saw the video with that girl. Giselle.”
“God,” he says. “That was so screwed up.”
“I know,” I tell him. “And I know that wasn’t your doing. But then I saw some of the others. And you were so happy.”
He stiffens, and I press my palm to his cheek. “You were!” I say. “I saw it myself. You are back in your world. It’s what you wanted.”
“No,” he says, his voice low and hard. “I don’t want it at the cost of you.”
My heart sings at this, but I’m not sure I can believe it. It seems impossible.
“Blitz,” I say. “We’ve known each other, what, three weeks?”
“Are you saying you don’t feel this?” His voice catches at the end, and my heart squeezes.
“I do, Blitz, I really do.” I don’t know what I’m saying anymore. “I just see that you love that life. And I can’t do it with you.”
He closes his eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “What would you like me to do? Meet your parents? Whisk you away to LA? Break my contract and quit the show?”
I hesitate. Something must be really wrong for him to want to throw everything away. “None of those,” I say. “Let’s just be for a minute.”
He pulls me back against him and I sink into the feeling of his arms around me, the smell of his hair, the soft tickle of the bristle on his cheek against my forehead.
A cold splat of rain hits the windshield, then another. Soon it’s pelting down, bits of ice mixed in. My mother will panic and try to come for me. I know it.
“I have to go home,” I say to him. “Meet me back at the park tonight. I’ll text you. Probably after ten, maybe eleven.”
He kisses my hair. “Okay. I’ll be there. Can you write to me in the meantime?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll charge the phone.”
He pulls away from me and starts the car. We drive through the deluge. I have him drop me off as close to home as I dare and make a run for the door.
Inside, Mom is just putting her coat on to come fetch me. She’s pulled out some towels. I let her dry my hair, thinking, plotting, wondering what I’ll do to get away tonight to see Blitz.
